


Wonderland

by Starboundwanderer



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Alice In Wonderland AU, F/M, Hello I have no impulse control, Let's go folks, Mallory is Alice, Michael is the Mad Hatter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2019-10-10 00:31:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17415539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starboundwanderer/pseuds/Starboundwanderer
Summary: Michael finds a curious thing.  Mallory finds an irritating one.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. This happened. Let's ride this one out together.

It was glaringly obvious she didn’t belong.  For one thing, she was crying.  And she was dressed so strangely in a blue jacket, a white shirt, and black jeans—so plainly!  No one dressed like that.   

  “Hello,” he purred stepping onto the path.  

  She had been sitting on a fallen tree but stood up, body tense and warily looking him up and down.  He began circling her.  His walking stick made indents in the soft red-pink dirt.   

  “Who are you?” he asked.  He raised up the cane and lifted the edge of her jacket.  She smacked it away and took a step backwards.   

  “Do  _not_ touch me,” she warned. 

  “I don’t believe  _I_ touched you.  This did.”  He raised the jacket’s edge again before she could move.   

  “Stop it!” 

  “Why?” 

  “Because it’s weird!  You’re weird; this whole place is  _weird_!”  She threw her arms out as if to demonstrate the oddness of this place, but Michael only raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for something “weird” to happen. 

  “Everything seems perfectly normal to me.  Nothing is out of place but you.” 

  “I guess when everything is insane, sanity seems odd,” she mumbled.  She wrapped her arms around herself. 

  “Who are you?” he asked again. 

  “I’m Mallory.” 

  “I’m Michael.”  

  “Well,  _Michael_ ,” she spit, practically choking on his name, “what is this place?” 

  He smiled.  Without really meaning to, he stepped forward.  She didn’t step away from him, and he was able to get toe-to-toe with her.  He cocked his head to side. 

  “Poor, lost soul.  So unsure of herself and where she’s going.  Not sure what’s up or down...how unfortunate.” 

  “Where am I?” 

  “You’re in Wonderland, my dear.” 

   

  She laughed in his face.   

  “No.  Nope.  This isn’t happening.” 

  Mallory turned on her heel and continued down the path.  She heard Michael following after her, but she didn’t bother to turn around and look at him.  

  “What makes that so improbable?” 

  “Wonderland is a fairytale.  A bedtime story my grandma told me, not a real place.” 

  “Neither of those are good reasons for a place to not exist.” 

  She scoffed.  She kept her eyes focused on the trail, wiping the remains of her tears away on her jacket sleeve.  She didn’t want to pay attention to how the dirt was a vibrant pink or how it seemed as if the trees were whispering.  No, that was all completely illogical.  Just as the man beside her was.  He’d been a jarring sight—a man with a lovely face dressed in a blood-red jacket, lacey cravat, and a top hat with a feather stuck in the band, and holding a mahogany walking stick topped with a silver ball—suddenly walking up to her after she’d seen no other soul for so long.  She’d been crying from frustration and tiredness, and had jumped up from the sheer shock and embarrassment.

  Then he’d given her a predatory smile that made her shaky.  She knew she had to get away from him. 

  “Go away,” she told him.  

  “I don’t think I will.” 

  “ _Please_ go away.” 

  “That’s not the magic word here, my dear.” 

  “Look,” she stopped and spun to face him.  She held a hand out towards him, and it nearly touched his chest.  He looked surprised at their sudden closeness but not upset by it.  “This is all a lot to handle, and you’re making it worse.  So can you just point me the way back to my home?” 

  “That all depends on where home is for you.” 

  “Brooklyn.  And that’s all I'll tell you.” 

  “Brooklyn?  That's...oh, you’re from  _there_.”  He shrugged and walked past her.  “Too bad.” 

  “Wait, what?”  She chased after him.  She grabbed his jacket sleeve and stopped him dead in his tracks.  His eyes looked in amusement where she touched him.  She quickly let go. 

  “Where is ‘ _there_?’” she asked. 

  “Above.  The Other World.  Where all you insanely dull creatures live.  It certainly does explain the way you’re dressed.”  He looked her up and down. 

  Ignoring the jab and the urge to cross her arms, she looked him in the eye and asked, “How do I get there?” 

  He grimaced.  “Oh.  Well.  That’s a problem to say the least.” 

  “Why?” 

  “There’s only one way for you to return, and it’s safely guarded by the Queen of Hearts.” 

  “Who’s that?” 

  “Your worst nightmare.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mallory meets some interesting characters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More plot and world-building is on the horizon.

  “How’d you end up down here anyway?” Michael asked.  He strolled beside her, ignoring her obvious irritation with him.  She’d told him several times to go away, but he refused to listen to her.

  “None of your business.”

  “You’re being so dull,  _Mallory_.”

  “You’re being so irritating,  _Michael_.”

  “ _I’m_  being polite and attempting to make interesting conversation to pass the time, but you’re being difficult.”

  “Why can't you just tell me where to go?  Why do you insist on following me around?”  She picked up the pace, but he easily kept up with up her.

  He shrugged.  “I’m bored, to say the least.  While you’re not the best conversationalist, it’s still better than just wandering around doing nothing.”

 She stopped in the middle of the path and spun to face him.  She turned too quickly and nearly got hit in the face by an errant tree branch.  She slapped it away with an irritated glare.

  “Okay, what exactly is stopping me from picking up that stupid cane and knocking you out?” she snapped.  She jabbed her finger at his chest.

  “Maybe the fact that I know where I'm going.”

  “I know where I'm going.”

  He smirked.  “Really?  Then which path do you take to get to the Queen of Heart’s castle?  And what exactly do you need to do when you get there?”

  He gestured behind her with his red-gloved hand.  There was a sinking feeling in her stomach as she turned around.

  Somehow the whole path had changed.  What had been one trail bordered by thick trees now branched off in over six directions over a flat field.  The post in the middle was absolute gibberish, with a wild collection of signs pointing every which way, including skyward.

  “What?  How?” she whispered as she took a few steps forward in disbelief.  Her head spun.

  “Welcome to Wonderland, my dear, where nothing makes sense and your logic is useless.”  She felt him step close behind her, close enough that she felt the heat off his body.

  “But—no, that’s not possible.  There was one path, and now there’s—ugh!”  She threw her hands up.  From the moment she’d opened her eyes in this insane world, nothing had been right, and she absolutely hated it.  She missed the sanity and order of the world above.  She ran her hands through her hair and closed her eyes to hold back the tears.  She hated crying and felt like she’d been doing an awful lot of it lately.

  “Okay,” she finally said, voice cracking.  “Which way do we go?”

  She heard him take in a deep, triumphant breath.  He stepped forward, grabbing her elbow and forcing her to walk beside him.  They walked down one of the winding paths on the right that lead them deeper into the forest.  Here, the trees started to become thin and skeletal.  The bark took on a strange, almost purple color and the leaves looked silver.  She kept her arm tucked in the crook and Michael’s arm, letting herself be led and feeling helpless but knowing that this was the only way she was getting out.

  “What’s the Queen got that’ll take me home?” she asked him after a while of walking.

  “Did you come through the Rabbit Hole?”

  “Yes.  Why?”

  “It’s a portal similar to that.  She doesn’t want any of the denizens of this fair realm escaping into yours, so she keeps it heavily guarded at the center of a hedge maze.  That's your only way out, my dear.”

  “So how—”

  She was interrupted by two figures careening onto the path.  They seemed to be wrestling with each other and yelling obscenities at each other.  She jumped and clung to Michael’s arm for support.

  “Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum!  Stop it!” Michael barked.

  “Hey!” the dark haired one said.  “My name is Mutt, not Tweedle Dum!”

  Mallory grimaced as the two men stood, brushing the dirt off themselves.  Their hair was in atrocious bowl cuts and they wore garish striped shirts with wide-legged blue pants.  They were perhaps the two ugliest things she’d ever seen.

  “We all agreed to stick to your news names since they suit you both so well.”  Michael’s brow was furrowed, and she heard irritation in his voice.  It delighted her.  

  She reached her hand out to them.  “My name is Mallory.”

  They looked her up and down and got stupid grins on thier faces.  The light haired one hit the other, and they both started giggling.  She pulled her hand back.

  “Nice,” said the dark haired one, Mutt—but Mallory couldn’t help but agree that their nicknames suited them so much better.

  “Good job, man,” Tweedle Dee said.  

  She glanced at Michael and saw him roll his eyes.  He tugged her forward.

  “Let’s go, my dear.”

  “Ooooohhhh!” the men chorused together.  They high-fived each other. 

  “Nice.  Nice.  But she’s gonna be mad,” Tweedle Dee said.

  The two men started walking with them.  Michael made a growling sound in his throat.  

  “Who’ll be mad?” Mallory asked, still a bit too happy that her companion was getting so frustrated.  

  “Mad Michael’s lover,” Tweedle Dum told her.  He flipped his hair and gave her a throaty chuckle.  “She’s the cold-blooded, wicked—ow!”

  But she never found out because Michael whacked out his kneecaps with the cane.  Tweedle Dum hit the dirt, and Tweedle Dee went to his knees beside him.  She gasped and tried to kneel beside him, but Michael forced her to keep walking.

  “Dude!  Rude!” 

  “Let’s go.”  

  “What?  No!  You just hurt him!”

  “Oh, did I?”  He stopped them and forced her to turn back and look at the two.

  They were no longer crouched in the road, but were giggling and shoving each other again.  Soon they tumbling as they had when they’d first crossed her path.  They reminded her of the college frat boys who exclusively played beer pong and pool.

  “They’re...”

  “Stupid,” Michael finished for her.  “Incredible, horribly stupid.”

  “Interesting,” she corrected sharply.

  “I’m glad you think of it like that.  You’ve got a lot of  _interesting_ characters to meet.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mallory reflects on how she got here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while! Here's a quick update!

 They walked for what seemed like hours.  Mallory could barely hold her eyes open as they reached a gate and Michael flung it open.  He led her across a wild, untamed lawn bursting with colorful flowers and overgrown weeds.  At the center of the chaos was a long dinner table laden with food and plates.  Mix-matched chairs surrounded it, but none were occupied.  She was grateful; she didn’t know what else she could handle today.

  She took a bath in a claw-foot tub—sadly there were no showers—and collapsed into a giant bed.  She pulled the thick quilts over her chest and sank back into the pillows.  She was desperate for sleep, but her mind replayed the day, as if it would make it any more understandable.

  She’d been walking back from visiting her grandmother, when she’d decided to take the long way around through the park.  She didn’t really mind the chill of winter or her breath coming out in white puffs; she quite liked the cold, how it seeped into her bones and settled on her skin.

  The park was surprisingly empty, but she didn’t think much of it.  She didn’t even notice that anything was out of place until she saw a woman in all white, save for the red waist coat and gold chain coming out of the pocket.  The woman stared intently at a pocket watch in her hand, brow furrowed and lips thin in worry.  

  “Hello?  Do you need help?” Mallory had asked.

  The woman had looked up, shock in her eyes.  “I’m late; I'm so, so late.”

  “Uh, it’s okay.  Where do you need—”

  “Late!” she suddenly shouted.  “I have to go!”

  And she’d taken off.  She ran off the path and into the trees.  Others might’ve shrugged and walked away.  Some might’ve even called the police.  But Mallory felt a compulsion to follow her, and she sprinted after her.  The woman was easy to follow with the white of her suit vivid against the darkening forest.

  “Wait!” Mallory called.  “Wait, please!  I can help you!”

  But the woman didn’t slow.  Mallory’s lungs ached and her legs shook, but she refused to stop her pursuit.  What if the woman needed help? 

  She came to a shaky stop as the woman finally stopped and turned so they were facing each other.  They locked eyes.  Mallory was gasping for breath as she took a few steps forward, hand outstretched.

  Then the woman took one step backwards and disappeared.  It was as if she’d fallen through the earth.  Shocked and a little scared, Mallory moved forward.  Her brain struggled to comprehend what was happening—maybe she was dreaming; maybe she was having a stroke—when she came across a large hole in the ground.  Strange sounds echoed up to her—sounds like cheerful laughter, the plink of a spoon against a teacup, velvet brushing skin.

  She went to her knees and leaned over it.  There were a few dim spots of gold glowing, and it seemed impossibly deep.  Soft cello music began welling up, and she tilted her head as she leaned closer, desperate to get closer.  It was warm and inviting, a reprieve from the biting cold.

  But she must’ve leaned too close because she was suddenly tumbling down, arms pinwheeling as she tried to catch herself on something, anything to stop the freefalling.  Books, candles, and old toys fell up past her.  She looked around as she the falling slowed to more of a float, and she grazed her hands against the wall.  It went from dirt crumbling under her palms to deep purple wallpaper.

  She came to a gentle stop and landed on a black-and-white tiled floor.  The entrance wasn’t even a pinprick of light anymore when she looked up.  She slowly gathered herself up, trembling as she looked around.  The room she was in was round and doors lined it. 

 The middle one was cracked open, and she heard a quiet, “I’m late,” from the other side.  Without a second thought, she bolted through it.  She threw a hand up above her eyes to save her from the blinding sunlight.

  “How?” she whispered to herself.  The sun had just been setting, and now it was high noon.

  Colorful flowers burst along the only path—a winding, endless, pink-dirt road—and, unsure what else to do, she followed it.  It was along that same path that Michael had eventually found her, crying and upset.

  

  She now tossed in the bed, limbs heavy and eyes burning from unshed tears.  She heard Michael bypass her door as he walked to what she assumed was another bedroom.  

  He was such an enigma and in a place like this, that was saying something.  Mad Michael, the Tweedles had called him.  And they’d mentioned a lover—one who they implied would be angry at him for escorting her to the Queen of Heart’s castle. 

  She convinced herself she didn’t care as she drifted into a restless sleep.  She only hoped that his girlfriend would be understanding that she was only trying desperately to get home, and he seemed to be her only guiding way out.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mallory and Michael start off on their journey to the Queen of Heart's castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I apologize for the late update! Along with school being hectic (SENIOR YEEEAAR), I've been sick and have a weird schedule right now that means I don't get home until late. This is a short chapter, but it's just to get the ball rolling for the story again, and the next chapter will be long.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also, updates should be more regular after mid-February.

  She stomped down the spiral staircase and flew out into the yard.  She’d seen a purple tophat and matching jacket and had gone down there to vent.  He was sitting at the head of the long table, now laden with sweets and various teapots.  He smiled at her over his cup.

  “Sleep well?”

  “Where are my clothes?” she asked as she walked up to him, heedless of the other two guests at the table.

  “I think these clothes suit you much better.”  He winked at her, and she wanted to break the pastel pink teapot over his head.

  After she’d woken and forced herself to face this strange new reality, she’d looked for her clothes, only to find they were gone.  Laying where she’d put them the night before was a red dress imprinted with black hearts, a gold jacket that fell to mid-thigh, a choker studded with rubies, and black shoes.  She’d put them on, if only to have something to wear other than the baggy shirt and pants Michael had given her to sleep in, but she felt ridiculous.

  “I want my clothes back.”  She put a hand on the table and leaned in closer to him.  

  He sighed.  “We’re going into the Queen’s kingdom; you simply can’t look so out of place.”

  “And a gold jacket just  _screams_ inconspicuous,” she deadpanned. 

  “Actually,” said a voice behind her, “here it does.  You’re not in your drab little world anymore.  We’re much more...dazzling.”

  She turned to see a lovely woman wearing a tight purple dress and a black fur coat.  The woman gave her a wicked smile from behind her long cigarette.

  “I’m Madison.  And you must be Mad Michael’s new toy.”   

  “I’m no one’s toy,” Mallory snapped.  She turned to face Michael again, but Madison was standing behind him, plumes of violet twisting around her form.

  “Impolite to just turn away from someone,” Michael said.

  “Very impolite,” Madison agreed, wrapping her plum-colored lips around the cigarette.

  At a loss for words, Mallory rolled her eyes.  She crossed her arms low over her stomach, uncomfortable at the piercing gaze of both of them.  They shared a quick look.

  “I didn’t figure you people cared for manners,” Mallory told them, voice biting.

  “I told you,” Michael mumbled, “she’s quite out of place.”

  “She certainly doesn’t belong here with us.”  Madison walked a slow circle around Mallory, eyes looking her up and down.  It gave the sensation of being stalked by a cougar.

  “Don’t do that,” she snapped.

  Madison only smiled.  It made Mallory’s skin crawl.  Instinctively, she stepped a little closer to Michael.

  “Don’t tease, Madison,” Michael said.  Mallory heard him stand.  “Come, Mallie, we have a long journey.”

  He straightened his jacket and brought his cane down onto the grass.  She noticed this one was topped with a gold rose.  He put a hand on the small of her back, and in her discomfort from the other girl’s predatorial look, she didn’t protest.

  They walked for a long while, but she felt Madison’s eyes on her for an uncomfortably long time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Mallory are off again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sliding back into this fic like a jacket. Life is less hectic now, so it should be finished soon!

“She’ll toy with her food like the minx she is, but Madison is harmless,” Michael told her.

  “I doubt that,” Mallory mumbled.

  He glanced over at her.  He wished she’d let him put some makeup on—deep crimson on her lips with black and gold accentuating her eyes—but she’d given him a deadly look when he’d suggested it.  He figured she was dealing with enough and left it alone.

  “You have to treat her like a lioness—beautiful but deadly.”  He used his cane to hold stray branches out of their path and stood aside to let her pass.  Many things could be said about Mad Michael, but he’d be damned if anyone ever said he wasn’t a gentleman.

  “Thank you,” she said, staring up at him with lovely brown eyes.  He’d been to her world a handful of times and found the denizens so dull and plain—he'd even thought that about her, but she was slowly changing his mind.  She burned with an inner fire that the complacent Wonderland beings had long since lost; they trudged along and let the wicked Queen of Hearts rule over them with an iron fist, himself included...himself most of  all,  if he were truly being honest.

  “Of course.”  He tipped his velvet hat towards her.

  They continued down the path.  The dirt abruptly turned into black cobblestone and the twisting silver trees started to get sparser.

  “What’s she like?” Mallory suddenly asked about midday.  Their path had been remarkably clear of any oddballs like the  Tweedles  and any troublemakers like Madison.

  “Who?”

  “The Queen.”

  Michael’s throat went a little dry.  His eyes darted to her, but she was staring ahead, brows furrowed at the mushrooms, which were slowly getting big enough to sit on.

  “She’s a tyrant,” he answered honestly.  “This place used to be free and full of...well, wonder.  But to her that was all just chaos.  When she killed the last queen, she put strict sets of laws in place, and anyone found breaking them is killed without a trial.”

  “That’s horrible!  There’s always a reason behind actions; maybe—”

  “There is no ‘maybe’ with her, Mallory.  She’s  judge , jury, and executioner, and she loves every second of it.”  He didn’t bother to hide the bitterness and anger in his voice.  These very words were enough to cost him his head, but it wasn’t as if any of her lackies were around.

  “Why doesn’t anyone take the throne from her then?”

  He couldn’t help but laugh.  “She’s somehow managed to put a damper on everyone’s magic, save for her own.  The rest of us can barely do parlor tricks anymore.”

  Mallory shook her head.  “This place is seeming less and less magical.”

_ You should try living here _ , he thought.  His homeland grew duller and more stagnant with each passing day.  The harsh laws sucked the life out of everyone, and all the rebels, his friends and family, were killed—the list of people he loved that were still alive was frighteningly short now.

  They continued to walk.  The trees were now so few that he could see the mountains off in the distance, and the toadstools were the size of dining room tables.  

  “Uh, Michael,” Mallory said as she grabbed at his sleeve.  His skin burned at the contact, but he pretended to not notice the strange reaction. “Where are we?  And where are we sleeping?”

  “We’re close to an old friend’s house.  She’ll let us stay the night here, and then tomorrow I’ll send you on your way back to your sad little world.”

  “Okay, it may be a ‘sad, little world,’ but we aren’t ruled by an evil queen,” she snapped.

  He smirked.  The path narrowed, and they were soon shoulder-to-shoulder.  The toadstools were of varying sizes, some smaller than his thumbnail and some towering over his head and big enough to carve a house out of.  He smelled something sweet, and when he saw the curling smoke, he smiled.  

  “Come on, Mallie.  Follow the path.”

  He stopped at the edge of the path and motioned for her to go through the thick mushrooms.  Despite being petite, Mallory still had trouble fitting between the spaces.  Michael’s nose wrinkled when he thought of the mushroom gunk possibly getting on his clothes and in his hair.

  “This is ridiculous,” he heard her mumble.  “Why aren’t the plants normal sized?”

  “There you are!” a voice said from atop a royal blue toadstool.  “Why does it take you so long to visit?”

  “I’m busy!” Michael answered, a grin playing on his lips.  He put a hand on Mallory’s back and slowly walked her forward.  She was stiff, but apparently trusted him enough to move forward.

  “Busy,” she scoffed.  “And now you bring a stranger into my home.”

  Soft, green-golden lights like fireflies lit up around Miss Meade.  She was lounging in a black dress and a hookah sat beside her.  She took a puff of it, closing her eyes as she filled her lungs.

  “Who—are—you?”  she asked , punctuating each work with a puff of smoke  in Mallory’s face .


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Miss Meade have a discussion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme tell ya--life's been crazy.

“M-Mallory,” she answered, waving her hand to clear the smoke. 

“Hmmph,” was all the woman said. 

“Miriam, there’s no need to be rude,” Michael told the woman as he hopped lightly up on the giant mushroom beside her. He grabbed the stem from Miriam and took a drag off of it. His whole body seemed to relax as he exhaled, making circles with the smoke from his mouth. 

“Don't call me ‘Miriam’ if you want to live to your next birthday.” Miriam snatched the hookah away. Michael grinned. 

“I’m Miss Meade. Now who are you?” 

“Mallory,” she repeated. Miss Meade rolled her eyes. 

“You said that already. Who are you?” 

“Really, leave the poor girl alone. She’s just trying to get home.” 

Mallory looked at her escort in shock. She hadn’t expected anything like sympathy from Michael. 

“And I don’t really understand the question. I mean, I already told you who I am,” she added. 

“No, you told me your name. Who you are is...bigger than that. It’s a matter of what makes you up, what your soul is like,” Miss Meade explained. 

“What is your soul like, Mallory?” Michael asked with a grin. For some reason the question and the teasing tone of his voice made her blush. 

“What’s yours?” she snapped. 

“Dark and shiny, like onyx. But valuable like sapphires or emeralds,” he answered. “It is, undoubtedly, precious and beautiful.” 

“Your soul may be gemstones, but your personality is bullshit,” Mallory retorted. 

Miss Meade burst out laughing. Michael rolled his eyes and took another drag off the hookah. 

“Yes, she’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.” Meade slapped Michael’s shoulder, and he helped her off the mushroom. She grabbed Mallory’s face between her hands, tilting it one way or the other. 

Mallory resisted the urge to pull away. She sensed this was important, but felt ridiculous as Meade walked around her, poking and prodding—at one point she yanked a piece of hair out of Mallory’s head and mumbled, “Not the best.” Mallory stared into her dark, soulful eyes as the woman stood in front of her again. She took Mallory’s hands between her own. 

“You may stay here,” Meade finally announced. 

“Thank you,” Mallory mumbled. 

“As if you weren’t ever going to let us,” she heard Michael say. 

“However, after reading her, I've decided you two must stay in separate rooms,” the older woman announced. 

Mallory’s brow furrowed. She glanced at Michael, who had gotten a bit paler, and back to Meade. She shook her head. 

“Trust me, that was never an issue.” 

“As if I'd sink so low as to be with a denizen of her world.” 

“Wow, your shiny, precious soul is really showing, Michael.” Mallory raised her eyebrows at him. 

Meade sighed. She put her hand on the small of Mallory’s back and lead her farther down the path. The odd, green-gold lights followed them the entire way, as if they were attached to them. 

“It’s not you I was worried about,” she whispered. “It’s him. The boy doesn’t know his own emotions from his feet.” 

“He barely tolerates me,” Mallory assured her. 

The other woman only smiled, a strange, knowing gleam in her eyes, and said, “For now.” 

 

Michael watched them go until they made it to the cabin down the path. He took another inhale of the sweet hookah smoke and blew more rings. Once Mallory was settled Miss Meade joined him again. 

“Sweet girl,” she said. 

He scoffed, a puff of smoke escaping his lips. “Sweet as vinegar.” 

“To you. But she was very pleasant to me.” 

“I never said she wasn’t pleasant. I just said she wasn’t sweet. She has a tongue like a knife.” 

Miss Meade laughed. “Don’t like someone able to cut with words like you, Michael?” 

She was the only one who didn’t call him Mad Michael. She was also the only one who understood why he did the things he did, that he wasn’t a cruel-hearted traitor to Wonderland. 

“I’m just getting her home.” 

“Oh, and she obviously desperately needs your help.” 

“She wouldn’t make it a day without me.” 

“And that Cheshire cat Madison couldn’t take her? Or Coco?” 

He kept quiet. He supposed anyone could’ve escorted her... 

“The Queen won’t hurt her if she’s with me.” 

“So you’re concerned about her well-being?” 

“I’d feel guilty if she died,” he snapped. He wasn’t sure why he was getting defensive or why his chest burned at the thought of someone else taking her to the Queen’s castle. 

Miss Meade laughed. “You’re in trouble, Michael. Big trouble.” 

And, deep down, he knew she was right.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Mallory run into trouble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in a single day. A miracle. I hope this helps make up for...literal months without anything. Sorry!

Mallory dreamed of home. She was on the front porch swing, staring out at the seemingly endless lake her aunt and uncle lived on. She could hear her family in the house and smell her mother’s pecan pie baking. She felt at peace.

“Lovely,” she heard beside her. She looked and saw she wasn’t alone anymore. Michael was sitting there, though he was dressed normally, not how looked in Wonderland. She smiled and intertwined her fingers with his.

“Not dull?” she asked.

He gave her a soft smile and brought her hand up to kiss the back of it. “With you, nothing is dull, Mallie.”

And then she was yanked from the bed. Confused and bleary-eyed, she twisted and yelled. She was dragged from the bedroom Miss Meade had given her.

She was taken to the living room, where Michael was already on his knees, looking absolutely furious.

“Michael!” she yelled. He looked at her, and she saw the anger grow in his eyes.

“Let her go!”

“What’s happening?” She tried to stand, but was forced back to her knees.

“Don’t fight, dear,” she heard quietly behind her. She glanced and saw Miss Meade sitting on the couch, eyes focused on Michael. She looked near tears.

“Enough!” a guard yelled. He stepped in from where he’d been watching just outside the doorframe. “Mad Michael, you are hereby ordered to go to the home of the White Queen.”

“Under what charge?!”

The guard shrugged. “Guess you’ll find out when you get there. Load them up.” He snapped his fingers, and Mallory was lifted by the guards as though she weighed nothing.

“Get—off—me!” She twisted and kicked, but to no avail.

“Let her go; she’s done nothing,” she heard Michael say.

“The girl comes with you.”

“No.”

The guard laughed. She stopped struggling and looked at the scene unfolding. Michael stood toe-to-toe with the head guard. Neither man was going to back down.

“What’re you going to do about it? Tell your lover on us? Prove once and for all what a traitor you really are?”

Michael growled. Then he spat in the other man’s face. Mallory gasped in shock. The guard raised a hand and wiped the spit away.

“You’re going to regret that.” He glanced her way, nodded his head, and a blinding pain shock across the back of her head. The last thing she heard was Michael and Miss Meade yelling her name.

 

The world was rocking. She struggled to make sense of everything. There was rocking; her head hurt; and someone was at her back. She tried to open her eyes, but the sunlight blinded her. She started to tilt, but a strong arm wrapped around her waist and hauled her upright again.

“Please wake up, Mallie,” someone whispered in her ear. It was a pleasant voice. She wished she could listen to it, but then darkness pulled her under again.

It was only a few hours before she woke again. Her head still ached, but she was able to keep her eyes open now, though part of her wanted to sleep again.

It took a moment to make anything make sense. But her brain caught up fairly quickly—she was on a horse, and someone’s arm was wrapped around her waist. None of that made the landscape logical though. Everything was white, as though it’d snowed, but there were no peeks of color—only white in a way that looked like a blank coloring book page, waiting to be colored.

She focused on the one solid thing—the arm around her waist. She turned her head to see who it was, but it was too fast a movement and she saw stars as a pain shot through her head again.

“Easy,” Michael said as she gently rested her head against his shoulder.

“What happened?” Her voice was hoarse.

“The White Queen’s guards dropped by to say hello. I made the wrong commander mad, and you paid the price for it. I’m sorry, by the way. I lost my temper, but I never dreamed he’d take it out on you.”

“I’d get hit in the head a thousand times if you spit on that asshole’s face again.”

He flinched. “Don’t say that.”

She snorted. “He deserved it.”

“But you didn’t,” he mumbled. She felt him tighten his grip around her middle. Some part of her thought she should be annoyed by it, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to support herself yet.

“So...the White Queen, huh? How many queens do you have in this world?”

“Just the two. The Queen of Hearts and the White Queen. There once was a Red Queen, but Venable killed her a long time ago.”

“Venable? That's the Queen of Hearts?”

“Yes. And you’re about to meet her sister.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Mallory meet the White Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Upped the chapter count!

  Mallory passed out again, and Michael decided it was best to let her rest.  She’d been complaining of the landscape giving her a headache, and he didn’t disagree. Though the White Queen was less tyrannical than her twin sister, her land was unnerving, especially when he was used to a  wilder and more colorful  one.

  The guards almost blended into the trees and earth with their white armor and white horses, but he and his Mallie stood out like bloodstains with him still in most of his clothes from the day before and her in his red jacket.  A few guards sneered at the color.  One looked as though he wanted to knock them from the horse, but Michael leveled him with a look.

  Soon, they were approaching the white castle.  It was— _ shockingly _ —white.  Honestly, did she have no taste?  Michael shook Mallory awake and helped her dismount, having to catch her as she stumbled.  She kept her eyes down and clung to him, head on his chest.

  “I can’t look at anything here,” she mumbled.  “It makes my eyes hurt and gives me a headache.”

  He wrapped an arm around her and followed the guards through the massive doors.  The throne room was just as stark as everything else, but it had gleams of silver in the columns and the throne.  And it was there she sat.  Beautiful.  Untouchable.  She didn’t smile at him.

  “Mad Michael,” the White Queen said.  “I’ve been looking for you.” 

  He gave a charming, nonchalant smile, as though his arms weren’t trembling with the need to push Mallory through the door.  

  “Cordelia.  I’ve been meaning to schedule tea with you, but every time I try to get in here your guards chase me away or beat me senseless.  Such an  inconvenience .”

  “That happens when you  sympathize  with my enemy.”

  “I don’t know if I’d call myself a sympathizer with your sister.”

  “I think warming her bed makes you her ally.”

  He stopped breathing.  He felt Mallory tense under his arm, but she said nothing.  What would she think of him now?  He wanted to explain.  It had been to save himself, to save Wonderland.  But he couldn’t say anything in front of Cordelia.

  “Enough,” he snapped.  “What do you want?”

  “Seems I've hit a nerve.  I’m assuming it has something to do with this young woman here?”  

  She stood and walked from the dais to them, her feathered white gown trailing behind her.  Michael put his other arm around his Mallie on instinct.  Cordelia noticed this and smiled.  No, no, no.  He was going to get her home, not get her wrapped up in the politics of this place. 

  “She’s from the mortal realm, Cordelia.  Leave her out of this.”

  The White Queen ignored him.  She motioned for her guards to come forward, and Michael was soon yanked away from Mallory, who stood staring awe-struck at Cordelia’s beauty.

  “No!  Cordelia, no!”  He struggled against the iron grip of the guards.  It didn’t get him free, but it did get Mallory to look at him.  Her eyes snapped to focus like she’d woken up.

  “Michael!” she said.  She tried to run to him, but Cordelia caught her arm.  Mallory gasped as icy started to climb up her arm.  Michael struggled so hard that his arms would be bruised later.

  Then Cordelia gasped and dropped her grip.  She stared at the mortal girl in shock and then something like reverence.  The look was gone, hidden behind the carefully-crafted façade of a queen, before he could figure out what it had been.

  “What’s your name, mortal?” she asked.

  “Mallory.”

  “Mallory,” the queen whispered.  “I think you might be useful to me.”

  She shook her head.  “I just want to go home.”

  Cordelia put her hand on  Mallie’s  face.  “You will, sweetheart.  You will.”

  Michael dared to feel his heart lift, dared to think maybe they could walk away from this.  Then Cordelia moved like a flash and was behind Mallory with a knife at her throat.  

_ Mallory _

  Stupid.  She’d been stupid to think this beautiful woman would help her.  Now, she felt the coldness of a blade at her throat.  She stared at a wild-eyed Michael.  He wasn’t struggling now and instead looked calculating.  He made eye contact with her and seemed to be saying  _ let me do the talking. _

_ Gladly _ , she thought.  If anyone could talk their way out of this situation, it’d be the silver-tongued Michael.  Her companion.  Her reluctant friend.  Her protector.  

  The Queen of Heart’s lover.  She fought a shudder at the thought.  He hadn’t said one kind word about the woman to her, and she knew without a doubt that he hated the other queen.  She wondered why he’d sleep with her, but then again, she knew he was more logical than he let out.  Everything had purpose with him.

  “I want to make a deal, Mad Michael,” the White Queen said.  Her voice was all business.

  “Then make a deal.  Don’t threaten my friends.”  

  “This was the best way to make you listen.”

  “And  _ so  _ willing to do your bidding when you make it clear you’ll double-cross me,” he deadpanned.

  They stared each other down.  Two incredibly powerful people, and she was caught in the middle of it.  Finally, Cordelia conceded.  She dropped the knife, and Mallory turned to face her.  The queen was taller than her, but with the anger coursing through her veins, she felt like she was staring down at the queen, who only smirked at her.

  “I don’t like being threatened.”

  “Good to see you somewhat know how to fight you own battles and don’t only let your knight do it for you.”

  “He’s my friend.  Friends defend each other.”

  Cordelia’s eyes flicked to Michael, who was still being held by the guards.  Her mysterious smile only grew.

  “Friends.  Right.”  She nodded in the guards’ direction, and Mallory was joined by Michael as he stood beside her.  He grabbed her shaking hand in his.

  “What do you want?” Mallory asked her, sensing that they weren’t allowed to leave yet.

  The White Queen turned and started to walk back to her throne.  “Simple, really.  I want Michael to kill the Red Queen.”

  "Impossible," Michael growled.  Cordelia returned to her throne.  She looked so regal, like a painting come to life.

  "Not for you.  Not if _her_ life is on the line."  She pointed to Mallory, who was roughly shoved behind Michael.  She tiptoed to peek over his shoulder.

  "She's going home."

  "If you help me, yes.  Don't you know you won't make it through the hedge maze with the guards?  Believing you'll even get close to the portal is wishful thinking, but you probably already knew that."

  Michael didn't answer.  Mallory stepped out from behind him.  She suddenly felt ridiculous, standing in front of a queen in a nightgown and a too-big jacket, but she kept her head high and her shoulders back.

  "Why don't you just kill her?" she asked.

  "Well, little mortal, that would be an act of war.  However, if an outsider does it..."

  "And make him a wanted man," Mallory said coldly.

  "Not if he does it right."

  "But--"

  "Fine," Michael spat.  "Fine.  I'll kill her.  But you don't touch Mallory.  I get to send her home."

  "Michael, no," Mallory whispered.  

  Cordelia smiled.  "Mad Michael, you made the correct choice for once."

  He gave a wicked grin.  "I picked your sister's bed because her kingdom was bigger."

  "Funny.  I thought it was because you were searching the hidden archives for a way to release magic again, but perhaps my spies were wrong."

  Michael's face went blank.  Mallory was sick of this.  Sick of the games and politics.  

  "So if he kills your sister, I get to go home.  What's his reward?" she asked.

  "Sending you home is his reward, Mallory," the White Queen said. 

  She frowned.  That wasn't exactly a great reward; it didn't benefit Michael.  But his face was still unreadable, so she wondered what she was missing.  What was Cordelia truly offering him?  Something from their long and storied past, she was sure.  Something her frail mortal mind had no comprehension of. 

  She bit back the anger as she turned her gaze back to the queen.

  "Deal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I now have a ko-fi! It's ko-fi.com/wonderfulandfanciful  
> Please consider buying me a coffee if you've enjoyed my work!


End file.
